


Insolent Bird

by Writing-Rammstein (orphan_account)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'can you do a Till Lindemann X Reader where she and her boyfriend got into a HUGE fight and she runs off but Till finds her and comforts her?'Sure can.





	Insolent Bird

Till looks up at you and you look down at him – a few seconds pass, and then he folds his arms.

“You look like an insolent bird.”

That’s it. You wondered how he’d do it – if there’s anyone who can make you laugh even thought tears and snot are streaming down your face, leaving streaks through the dirt accumulated from climbing the tree you are currently perched in, it’s Till. You snorted with laughter, and then begin to cry again quietly.

“Please, come down.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I just want to be alone, Tillie, please…”

“You are dangerously close to violating my gimmick. I am the one who vanishes into the forests.” He sits on a rock at the bottom of the tree, and there is no sound – except for the sound of everything around you, of course, the running of slow water under the sunset and the whisper of a quiet breeze through the whip-tipped tree-tops and far away, the screech of a buzzard. “Please come down?”

“We’re over,” you answer, into the air. “I can’t do this with him again, Tillie. I’m sick and tired.”

“Then do not.” He sighs, and pulls a bag of gummy bears out of his pocket; you hear the crinkle of the brown paper packet, and look down. “But why are you the one who is sitting in the tree? You should chase him up there.”

You bite your lip, and Till extends his arm, a way below, shaking the bag.

“I do not come up there,” he muses, and you purse your lips, before slithering awkwardly down the tree and dropping the last foot, wincing as your ankle crunches gently. “Are you okay…?”

“Landed on my bastard ankle… I want some bears.” You sit next to him, and lean your head on his shoulder as you take a gummy bear. “Fine. I’ll… this is it.” You sigh, and then rip the poor little green bear’s head off with your teeth. “Lime.”

“You promise? I like to come into the woods for a quiet time. Not to chase you out of a tree.” He slides his arm around you, and you lean into his touch for a long while, the only sounds the birds and the wind through the trees and the paper bag rustling as one or the other of you reaches in to take a gummy bear.


End file.
